Recovering her calm mask, Jane acknowledged the earl’s presence and murmured some apologies to all as she slid gracefully into a chair next to her aunt.
Lady Elsbeth poured her a cup of tea. "I forbade the boys and our guest the blackberries until you could join us. I felt it only proper that you have the first taste, as they are your treat."
“I believe Miss Grantley has already availed herself of a taste. Among other things,” the earl drawled as he sat down again. "I distinctly remember a dark purple cast to her lips when I met her this morning."
Now that she was seated among them, Jane could see the smirk on the earl’s face and realized he’d tasted the berries on her lips. A slight blush stained her cheeks.
“I will admit I lacked forbearance,” murmured Jane wryly, catching the earl’s eye.
The slight elevation of one of his dusky brows prompted her to add, “A vice I find universal. Now, Elsbeth,” she said briskly,perturbed by the earl yet determined to ignore these strange sensations, “since you have waited, allow me to do the honor of serving.”
She deftly divided the small harvest into five bowls, then picked up a silver creamer. "My lord?” she asked coolly, holding the creamer over one of the bowls.
“If you please. Miss Grantley.”
“Judging from the laughter I heard as I descended the stairs, I gather my prolonged absence was not missed,” Jane remarked as she handed the earl a bowl of berries.
“I beg to differ with you, Miss Grantley. You were certainly missed,” the earl returned with a smooth, practiced gallantry that made the skin around Jane’s mouth tighten. "But I must confess, the laughter you heard was, lamentably, at my expense.”
The wry expression he bestowed on her nephews sent the children into renewed gales of laughter, keeping Jane from making a peevish comment. In awkward defense, she tried to look at him archly but only succeeded in appearing adorably confused. Worse was the realization that the horrible man seemed to know her thoughts and feelings and found humor in them!
“Lord Royce has been regaling the boys with some of his more youthful exploits. Though perhaps it would have been best if he had refrained from giving them ideas,” Lady Elsbeth said pointedly, fixing her nephews in turn with a meaningful stare.
“More to the point, Lady Elsbeth,” Royce interceded, “are the punishments that were meted out. Though I must admit, on more than one occasion, my punishments were self-inflicted.”
“What do you mean, my lord?” asked Edward, screwing up his face in perplexity, his feet swinging against a leg of the settee.
“He’s just teasing, you nodcock,” said Bertram disgustedly. "Lords don’t get punished.”
The earl leaned back, the better to assay Bertram. "I beg to differ with you, young master,” drawled the earl. "Not only are lords punishable, sometimes they bear punishment, beyond physical scars, their entire lives.”
Jane and Lord Royce exchanged covert glances over the heads of the boys. "The most valuable possession a man has is his good name. Lose that, and you’re punished day in and day out for all your life.”
Jane squirmed under his steady regard, for in his stare she read the real truth of his words, a truth that somehow cut at her heart. Elsbeth pursed her lips, her eyelids drooping over her soft hazel eyes as she feigned renewed interest in her embroidery.
“How can you lose a name? I mean, it’s not like a marble,” Edward said.
The earl laughed, ruffling the boy’s hair. "It means to lose the good opinion that people have of you.”
“Oh, is that all?” Edward said disgustedly.
“Yes. I know that in youth one holds a name cheap, but believe me, young Edward Litton, when one is an adult, one’s priorities change,” the earl said dryly. "But I do not wish to talk of these things. I wish to tell you how I punished myself for failure to listen to my father, tutor, gamesmen, and grooms. One day I, too, decided to climb one of those big fruit trees in the orchard. Like you, Edward, I climbed as high as I was able and then beyond that. And like you, too, I became stuck. Unfortunately, I did not have anyone to help me down. I was forced to free myself, and the result was my punishment. I fell.”
“From way up there?” Edward squeaked.
“What happened?” Bertram demanded.
“I broke my arm. I was lucky I didn’t do more damage, though I confess I felt as if I had. For what seemed like a long while, I lay on the ground under that tree, waiting for someone to help me. But no one knew where I was. Finally, I was forced toget to my feet and return home, cradling my arm as best I could. A hue and cry was raised, and the doctor was sent for to set the bone. Unfortunately, he was away.”
“That was luck,” claimed Bertram, nodding his head knowingly.
Jane frowned at Bertram, but the earl merely laughed. "Bad luck, I’d say. My arm was broken, and the bone had to be set. By the time it was decided to proceed without the doctor, my entire arm was swollen and painful to the slightest touch. The only person who had any experience with broken bones was Wilcox, the head groom. He plied me with liquor, which I thought a great treat at my age, and then had some of the other men from the estate hold me down while he pulled the arm straight to line up the bones. Then he splinted it tightly.”
“Were your parents away, like ours?” Edward asked.
“My father was seldom at Royceland Hall. Mother went visiting so she wouldn’t have to hear my screams.”
Jane pursed her lips at the wealth of emotions evoked in that last sentence. Bells clanged in her head, warning her that there were hidden, untold depths to the earl that might impinge upon the rumors that so freely circulated about him. She found herself leaning forward in her chair, hanging on to every word of his recital.
